Bill Bowls was the most amiable1, gentle, kindly2, and modest fellow that ever trod the deck of a man-of-war. He was also one of the most lion-hearted men in the Navy.
When Bill was a baby—a round-faced, large-eyed, fat-legged baby, as unlike to the bronzed, whiskered, strapping3 seaman4 who went by the name of “Fighting Bill” as a jackdaw is to a marlinespike—when Bill was a baby, his father used to say he was just cut out for a sailor; and he was right, for the urchin5 was overflowing6 with vigour7 and muscular energy. He was utterly8 reckless, and very earnest—we might almost say desperately9 earnest. Whatever he undertook to do he did “with a will.” He spoke10 with a will, listened with a will, laughed, yelled, ate, slept, wrought11, and fought with a will. In short, he was a splendid little fellow, and therefore, as his father wisely said, was just cut out for a sailor.
Bill seemed to hold the same opinion, for he took to the water quite naturally from the very commencement of life. He laughed with glee when his mother used to put him into the washtub, and howled with rage when she took him out. Dancing bareheaded under heavy rain was his delight, wading12 in ponds and rivers was his common practice, and tumbling into deep pools was his most ordinary mishap14. No wonder, then, that Bill learned at an early age to swim, and also to fear nothing whatever, except a blowing-up from his father. He feared that, but he did not often get it, because, although full of mischief15 as an egg is full of meat, he was good-humoured and bidable, and, like all lion-hearted fellows, he had little or no malice16 in him.
He began his professional career very early in life. When in after years he talked to his comrades on this subject, he used to say—
“Yes, mates, I did begin to study navigation w’en I was about two foot high—more or less—an’ I tell ’e what it is, there’s nothin’ like takin’ old Father Time by the forelock. I was about four year old when I took my first start in the nautical17 way; and p’r’aps ye won’t believe it, but it’s a fact, I launched my first ship myself; owned her; commanded and navigated18 her, and was wrecked19 on my first voyage. It happened this way; my father was a mill-wright, he was, and lived near a small lake, where I used to splutter about a good deal. One day I got hold of a big plank21, launched it after half an hour o’ the hardest work I ever had, got on it with a bit of broken palm for an oar22, an’ shoved off into deep water. It was a splendid burst! Away I went with my heart in my mouth and my feet in the water tryin’ to steady myself, but as ill luck would have it, just as I had got my ship on an even keel an’ was beginnin’ to dip my oar with great caution, a squall came down the lake, caught me on the starboard quarter, and threw me on my beam-ends. Of coorse I went sowse into the water, and had only time to give out one awful yell when the water shut me up. Fortnitly my father heard me; jumped in and pulled me out, but instead of kicking me or blowin’ me up, he told me that I should have kept my weather-eye open an’ met the squall head to wind. Then he got hold of the plank and made me try it again, and didn’t leave me till I was able to paddle about on that plank almost as well as any Eskimo in his skin canoe. My good old dad finished the lesson by tellin’ me to keep always in shoal water till I could swim, and to look out for squalls in future! It was lucky for me that I had learned to obey him, for many a time I was capsized after that, when nobody was near me, but bein’ always in shoal water, I managed to scramble23 ashore24.”
As Bill Bowls began life so he continued it. He went to sea in good earnest when quite a boy and spent his first years in the coasting trade, in which rough service he became a thorough seaman, and was wrecked several times on various parts of our stormy shores. On reaching man’s estate he turned a longing25 eye to foreign lands, and in course of time visited some of the most distant parts of the globe, so that he may be said to have been a great traveller before his whiskers were darker than a lady’s eyebrows26.
During these voyages, as a matter of course, he experienced great variety of fortune. He had faced the wildest of storms, and bathed in the beams of the brightest sunshine. He was as familiar with wreck20 as with rations27; every species of nautical disaster had befallen him; typhoons, cyclones28, and simooms had done their worst to him, but they could not kill him, for Bill bore a sort of charmed life, and invariably turned up again, no matter how many of his shipmates went down. Despite the rough experiences of his career he was as fresh and good-looking a young fellow as one would wish to see.
Before proceeding29 with the narrative30 of his life, we shall give just one specimen31 of his experiences while he was in the merchant service.
Having joined a ship bound for China, he set sail with the proverbial light heart and light pair of breeches, to which we may add light pockets. His heart soon became somewhat heavier when he discovered that his captain was a tyrant32, whose chief joy appeared to consist in making other people miserable33. Bill Bowls’s nature, however was adaptable34, so that although his spirits were a little subdued35, they were not crushed. He was wont36 to console himself, and his comrades, with the remark that this state of things couldn’t last for ever, that the voyage would come to an end some time or other, and that men should never say die as long as there remained a shot in the locker37!
That voyage did come to an end much sooner than he or the tyrannical captain expected!
One evening our hero stood near the binnacle talking to the steersman, a sturdy middle-aged38 sailor, whose breadth appeared to be nearly equal to his length.
“That’s so, lad, I’m not goin’ to deny it,” replied Tom, as he turned the wheel a little to windward:
Most landsmen would have supposed that Bill’s remark should have been, “We have got dirty weather,” for at the time he spoke the good ship was bending down before a stiff breeze, which caused the dark sea to dash over her bulwarks40 and sweep the decks continually, while thick clouds, the colour of pea-soup, were scudding41 across the sky; but seafaring men spoke of it as a “capful of wind,” and Bill’s remark was founded on the fact that, for an hour past, the gale42 had been increasing, and the appearance of sea and sky was becoming more threatening.
That night the captain stood for hours holding on to the weather-shrouds43 of the mizzen-mast without uttering a word to any one, except that now and then, at long intervals44, he asked the steersman how the ship’s head lay. Dark although the sky was, it did not seem so threatening as did the countenance45 of the man who commanded the vessel46.
Already the ship was scudding before the wind, with only the smallest rag of canvas hoisted47, yet she rose on the great waves and plunged48 madly into the hollows between with a violence that almost tore the masts out of her. The chief-mate stood by the wheel assisting the steersman; the crew clustered on the starboard side of the forecastle, casting uneasy glances now at the chaos49 of foaming50 water ahead, and then at the face of their captain, which was occasionally seen in the pale light of a stray moonbeam. In ordinary circumstances these men would have smiled at the storm, but they had unusual cause for anxiety at that time, for they knew that the captain was a drunkard, and, from the short experience they had already had of him, they feared that he was not capable of managing the ship.
“Had we not better keep her a point more to the south’ard, sir?” said the mate to the captain, respectfully touching51 his cap; “reefs are said to be numerous here about.”
“No, Mister Wilson,” answered the captain, with the gruff air of a man who assumes and asserts that he knows what he is about, and does not want advice.
“Keep her a point to the west,” he added, turning to the steersman.
“Rocks ahead!”
“Port! port! hard-a-port!” shouted the men. Their hoarse53 voices rose above the gale, but not above the terrible roar of the surf, which now mingled54 with the din13 of the storm.
The order was repeated by the mate, who sprang to the wheel and assisted in obeying it. Round came the gallant55 ship with a magnificent sweep, and in another moment she would have been head to wind, when a sudden squall burst upon her broadside and threw her on her beam-ends.
When this happened the mate sprang to the companion-hatch to get an axe56, intending to cut the weather-shrouds so that the masts might go overboard and allow the ship to right herself, for, as she then lay, the water was pouring into her. Tom Riggles was, when she heeled over, thrown violently against the mate, and both men rolled to leeward57. This accident was the means of saving them for the time, for just then the mizzen rigging gave way, the mast snapped across, and the captain and some of the men who had been hastening aft were swept with the wreck into the sea.
A few minutes elapsed ere Tom and the mate gained a place of partial security on the poop. The scene that met their gaze there was terrible beyond description. Not far ahead the sea roared in irresistible58 fury on a reef of rocks, towards which the ship was slowly drifting. The light of the moon was just sufficient to show that a few of the men were still clinging to the rail of the forecastle, and that the rigging of the main and foremasts still held fast.
“Have you got the hatchet59 yet?” asked Tom of the mate, who clung to a belaying-pin close behind him.
“Ay, but what matters it whether we strike the rocks on our beam-ends or an even keel?”
The mate spoke in the tones of a man who desperately dares the fate which he cannot avoid.
“Here! let me have it!” cried Tom.
He seized the hatchet as he spoke and clambered to the gangway. A few strokes sufficed to cut the overstrained ropes, and the mainmast snapped off with a loud report, and the ship slowly righted.
“Hold on!” shouted Tom to a man who appeared to be slipping off the bulwarks into the sea.
As no reply was given, the sailor boldly leapt forward, caught the man by the collar, and dragged him into a position of safety.
“Why, Bill, my boy, is’t you?” exclaimed the worthy60 man in a tone of surprise, as he looked at the face of our hero, who lay on the deck at his feet; but poor Bill made no reply, and it was not until a glass of rum had been poured down his throat by his deliverer that he began to recover.
Several of the crew who had clung to different parts of the wreck now came aft one by one, until most of the survivors61 were grouped together near the wheel, awaiting in silence the shock which they knew must inevitably62 take place in the course of a few minutes, for the ship, having righted, now drifted with greater rapidity to her doom63.
It was an awful moment for these miserable men! If they could have only vented64 their feelings in vigorous action it would have been some relief, but this was impossible, for wave after wave washed over the stern and swept the decks, obliging them to hold on for their lives.
At last the shock came. With a terrible crash the good ship struck and recoiled65, quivering in every plank. On the back of another wave she was lifted up, and again cast on the cruel rocks. There was a sound of rending66 wood and snapping cordage, and next moment the foremast was in the sea, tossing violently, and beating against the ship’s side, to which it was still attached by part of the rigging. Three of the men who had clung to the shrouds of the foremast were swept overboard and drowned. Once more the wreck recoiled, rose again on a towering billow, and was launched on the rocks with such violence that she was forced forward and upwards67 several yards, and remained fixed68.
Slight although this change was for the better, it sufficed to infuse hope into the hearts of the hitherto despairing sailors. The dread69 of being instantly dashed to pieces was removed, and with one consent they scrambled70 to the bow to see if there was any chance of reaching the shore.
Clinging to the fore-part of the ship they found the cook, a negro, whose right arm supported the insensible form of a woman—the only woman on board that ship. She was the wife of the carpenter. Her husband had been among the first of those who were swept overboard and drowned.
“Hold on to her, massa,” exclaimed the cook; “my arm a’most brok.”
The mate, to whom he appealed, at once grasped the woman, and was about to attempt to drag her under the lee of the caboose, when the vessel slipped off the rocks into the sea, parted amidships, and was instantly overwhelmed.
For some minutes Bill Bowls struggled powerfully to gain the shore, but the force of the boiling water was such that he was as helpless as if he had been a mere71 infant; his strength, great though it was, began to fail; several severe blows that he received from portions of the wreck nearly stunned72 him, and he felt the stupor73 that preceded death overpowering him, when he was providentially cast upon a ledge74 of rock. Against the same ledge most of his shipmates were dashed by the waves and killed, but he was thrown upon it softly. Retaining sufficient reason to realise his position, he clambered further up the rocks, and uttered an earnest “Thank God!” as he fell down exhausted75 beyond the reach of the angry waves.
Soon, however, his energies began to revive, and his first impulse, when thought and strength returned, was to rise and stagger down to the rocks, to assist if possible, any of his shipmates who might have been cast ashore. He found only one, who was lying in a state of insensibility on a little strip of sand. The waves had just cast him there, and another towering billow approached, which would infallibly have washed him away, had not Bill rushed forward and dragged him out of danger.
It proved to be his friend Tom Riggles. Finding that he was not quite dead, Bill set to work with all his energy to revive him, and was so successful that in half-an-hour the sturdy seaman was enabled to sit up and gaze round him with the stupid expression of a tipsy man.
“Come, cheer up,” said Bill, clapping him on the back; “you’ll be all right in a short while.”
“Wot’s to do?” said Tom, staring at his rescuer.
“You’re all right,” repeated Bill. “One good turn deserves another, Tom. You saved my life a few minutes ago, and now I’ve hauled you out o’ the water, old boy.”
The sailor’s faculties76 seemed to return quickly on hearing this. He endeavoured to rise, exclaiming—
“Any more saved?”
“I fear not,” answered Bill sadly, shaking his head.
“Let’s go see,” cried Tom, staggering along the beach in search of his shipmates; but none were found; all had perished, and their bodies were swept away far from the spot where the ship had met her doom.
At daybreak it was discovered that the ship had struck on a low rocky islet on which there was little or no vegetation. Here for three weeks the two shipwrecked sailors lived in great privation, exposed to the inclemency77 of the weather, and subsisting78 chiefly on shell-fish. They had almost given way to despair, when a passing vessel observed them, took them off, and conveyed them in safety to their native land.
Such was one of the incidents in our hero’s career.
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1
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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strapping
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| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
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seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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urchin
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| n.顽童；海胆 | |
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overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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11
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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wading
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的现在分词 ) | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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14
mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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nautical
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| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
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18
navigated
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| v.给（船舶、飞机等）引航，导航( navigate的过去式和过去分词 )；（从海上、空中等）横越；横渡；飞跃 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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cyclones
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| n.气旋( cyclone的名词复数 )；旋风；飓风；暴风 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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adaptable
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| adj.能适应的，适应性强的，可改编的 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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locker
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| n.更衣箱，储物柜，冷藏室，上锁的人 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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scudding
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| n.刮面v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的现在分词 ) | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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shrouds
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| n.裹尸布( shroud的名词复数 )；寿衣；遮蔽物；覆盖物v.隐瞒( shroud的第三人称单数 )；保密 | |
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44
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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45
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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46
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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47
hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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49
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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50
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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51
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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52
stoutest
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| 粗壮的( stout的最高级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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54
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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55
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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56
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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leeward
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| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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vented
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| 表达，发泄（感情，尤指愤怒）( vent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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67
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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68
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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69
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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70
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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71
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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72
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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73
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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74
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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75
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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76
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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77
inclemency
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| n.险恶，严酷 | |
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78
subsisting
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| v.（靠很少的钱或食物）维持生活，生存下去( subsist的现在分词 ) | |
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